


river styx

by bluedesert



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Greek god au, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Reincarnation, norenmin if you squint - Freeform, side nomin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24640132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedesert/pseuds/bluedesert
Summary: “Would you give me the world, if I asked it of you?” Donghyuck asks.“I would,” Mark says immediately.“Then give me your world, and I will give you springtime.”(aka hades & persephone/greek god au with a twist)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 50
Kudos: 346
Collections: Markhyuck, My Favorite Fics, Neo got back





	river styx

**Author's Note:**

> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4RvEV2m9jcmBpHBdAQcFIe?si=yj1j-z2dTWq3WU3gxA_7Sw), [moodboard](https://ibb.co/Rp5HhMs)
> 
> if u want additional listening, just play all of grimes' miss anthropocene for scenes that take place in the underworld

The sky is a bruised dark purple. The only real difference between night and day in the underworld is that the sky goes from painful white-gray to a stormy purple. Beside that, it’s the same as always: an expanse of empty land, and a flowing river cutting through it, stretching from one horizon to the next. He doesn’t mind, Mark tells himself as he walks along the river. Perhaps it’s better this way. No distractions to get in the way of his work. 

The traveling souls, little pinpricks of light that travel through the silver water, keep him company. He smiles down at the babbling river. The souls down there like to talk to each other. _Where are you going? Where did you come from?_ It’s good they have each other as they complete the journey between death and rebirth. It’s his job to make sure no one gets lost. 

The worst part of his job, though, are the annual meetings with the other gods. The only reason he ever leaves his kingdom. Everyone has something to complain about, people get into useless fights, and no change ever happens. Mark always keeps to himself at those meetings. The underworld is the same as it has always been, as it always will be. He has nothing to say. 

As he walks farther and farther down the river, a silhouette in the distance makes itself known. Black hood, sweeping cloak, wooden boat. The drifting figure stops before Mark. He lowers his hood.

“You changed your hair,” Mark says, eyeing Renjun’s long blonde hair, slicked back away from his forehead. Renjun looks at him with piercing eyes. 

“You look exactly the same as always. How boring,” Renjun says, but he welcomes Mark onto his boat regardless. 

“How are you? Why are you only capable of hanging out when you need something?” Renjun asks. Technically he’s Renjun’s boss, but he’s long since given up hope on any kind of deference. Besides, sometimes Renjun’s just prickly. 

“I’m okay, how about you?” Mark says politely, ignoring Renjun’s second question as the boat changes direction and heads down the river. Renjun controls the boat easily, used to the moving of the river under his feet. For as long as Mark has overseen the underworld, Renjun has been his grim reaper. 

“Terrible now that I have to see you,” Renjun says. Mark just laughs in response. The bruised sky lightens a little, purple fading away. The river leads them into a dark, cool cave. The sound of their conversation and the moving water echoes along the stone walls. The air feels good in here. Old and untouched. 

“This is where I leave you. There’s someone waiting outside for you,” Renjun says. 

“You don’t trust me to get there on my own?” Mark asks. 

“No, I know you would never skip the meetings, no matter how much you hate them. Try to have fun, okay? Make some friends,” Renjun says and fades away. 

Mark sighs. He wishes Renjun could come with him, but the meetings are only for the gods. They wouldn’t like it if he brought a grim reaper into their midst. He steps out of the cave, blinking at the sudden light. The scents and sounds of the upper world overwhelm him for a moment. He’s unused to the chirping birds in the trees, the sun in his eyes. The water that flows out of the cave is just a normal river now, making its way down the mountain. 

Unsurprisingly, Jaemin is waiting for him. He’s in the water, leaning his arms on the riverbank, face in his hands. He breaks into a wide smile when he sees Mark emerge from the cave. 

“You made it!” Jaemin cheers. Mark walks up to him and leans down to greet the water nymph. Jaemin does a little flip in excitement, and comes up with water dripping down his face. The last few years, Jaemin has been here to greet him on the way to Olympus. The first time was a complete accident, but since then Jaemin has taken it upon himself to be his welcome party. 

“Is Jeno going today?” Jaemin asks eagerly. This is a relatively recent development. Jaemin had discovered that Mark has the smallest of rapports with the god of the sea, Jeno, and demands that Mark play wingman. 

“Yes, you know that. You should just go up and talk to him,” Mark says.

“Why doesn’t he ever come up to me? He’s always somewhere chattering away with some damn dolphins,” Jaemin whines. 

“He’s probably just intimidated,” Mark says. He knows that is actually true. Jeno is a little shy, and Jaemin is very friendly. Not to mention he’s always hanging out with--

As if summoned by Mark’s thoughts alone, the world erupts into a cacophony of spring. Flowers burst forward in bloom, the trees grow fruits, and the birds chirp excitedly as the fish dance in the water. The god of springtime is anything but subtle, Mark thinks, rolling his eyes. 

Donghyuck steps out from behind the trees and runs into the river, sending out a splash that gets all over Mark. Donghyuck and Jaemin are laughing in each other's arms, treading water, ignorant of the way Mark shifts uncomfortably in his newly wet socks. What a great way to show up to the meeting with the other gods-- dripping water, squeaky shoes. Unfortunately, being the god of death doesn’t give him the powers to dry himself off when someone recklessly splashes him with water. 

“Mark!” Donghyuck says, and swims up to Mark’s feet. He’s grinning, pretty as always, running a hand through his wet hair. Mark quickly looks away as Donghyuck pulls himself out of the water, shirt sticking to his skin. 

“So you’re coming this year,” Mark says, wildly grasping for something intelligent to say. 

“Yeah, these are super boring but I missed seeing everyone,” Donghyuck says. Mark reluctantly admits to himself that he had missed Donghyuck’s presence at last year's meeting. It had gone much smoother, and been much shorter, but without Donghyuck there was little excitement. 

“Doyoung will kill me if I miss two years in a row too,” Donghyuck says, “so I almost decided to skip again. But now that I’ve run into you I guess I change my mind.” 

Mark skirts away as Donghyuck gets dangerously close, all chatter, tan skin, and wet clothing. If Donghyuck tries to hug him he’ll head right back into the underworld, meeting be damned. Luckily, Donghyuck doesn’t try anything. 

“We’ll get Jeno to ask you out,” Donghyuck promises Jaemin, who cheers in response. Mark says his goodbyes and Jaemin flips into the water happily. They head up the mountain. The weather stays pleasantly warm, a cool breeze countering the sunlight. Flowers continue to spring up along the riverbank as Donghyuck walks by. Mark drinks in all the colors, starved of soft pink, baby blue, and bright green for a whole year. He is well aware that Donghyuck is just showing off his powers, as he does all too often. He doesn't give him the satisfaction of being impressed, but he can’t stop himself from petting the bird that lands on his shoulder. 

“She likes you,” Donghyuck says, watching with sharp eyes as Mark softly touches the feathers. Mark makes sure to handle the bird with extra care under Donghyuck’s gaze. The bird nips lightly at his fingers, but Mark just chuckles at the teasing feeling. 

The bird stays on his shoulder, playing with his ear as they walk. Donghyuck is in his element, shining as he usually does. A deer walks with them from behind the line of trees, observing them with caution. 

Suddenly, Donghyuck stops and looks to the side. “There’s a home there. Humans, I think,” he turns his mischievous to Mark, “let's go see them.”

“I don’t know if we have time,” Mark says, but trails after Donghyuck anyway. Humans. He hasn’t seen one in a long time. He sends a final look up to the top of the mountain. The others are probably there already. Being a little late suddenly doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea though. He slips into the trees behind Donghyuck. They swerve through the wilderness. Mark eventually picks up what Donghyuck already had-- he doesn’t feel the life, though, but the death. 

It’s a stark reminder why he tends to stay away from humans. He feels the pit of his stomach drop as a small house comes into view, a beautiful garden, a dog that starts to bark. A man and a woman come out at the dog’s noise. They can’t see Donghyuck or Mark. The bird on Mark’s shoulder flies off, spooked by the dog’s barking.

“Let’s stop here,” Mark says as Donghyuck tries to go closer. 

“Why?” 

“They can’t see us, but they can feel us. Humans don’t particularly like to be visited by death,” Mark says.

“You’re with me. I’ll balance it out, don’t worry,” Donghyuck says and tugs Mark closer. Mark waits to see the telltale signs on the humans of his visit-- goosebumps, a sudden chill, a solemn thought. But the humans just continue like normal, now petting the dog and bringing him back inside. Looking at their wooden house, he feels a sense of deja vu. Death has already been here.

“Their son died last winter,” Mark says without thinking. He immediately regrets it. This is why he doesn’t have friends-- everything that comes out of his mouth is sad and creepy. He doesn’t even know how to hold a real conversation. Why would Donghyuck want to know who has died here? Immortal gods don’t tend to think about death, and don’t like it when Mark brings it up.

But Donghyuck isn’t looking at him with fear and disgust. He is staring at the door where the couple had disappeared with wide eyes. 

“Where is their son now?” he asks. 

Mark closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. The son had departed here, had traveled down Mark’s carefully tended river, and ended up on the other side. He feels a sudden rush of air, ice cold wind and snow-capped mountains, thin bones and strong wings.

“He’s a bird now. Flying near the himalayas,” Mark murmurs. He opens his eyes and finds himself looking directly into Donghyuck’s face. 

“That’s a nice thought,” Donghyuck says with a soft smile.

“Is it?”

“A girl once told me all humans wanted the ability to fly. Their son is probably happy that he’s up there flying.”

Mark can’t look away from Donghyuck. His face is usually so painful to look at, like staring directly into the sun. He had never noticed how round his cheeks are, how soft his lips seem. Little moles decorate his cheek. 

“I see you, Mark Lee. I see you every year, when springtime comes and chases the dead trees away. Flowers can’t bloom if they never die,” Donghyuck says.

He realizes this is the first time he’s ever really talked with Donghyuck, the longest amount of time they’ve spent together one-on-one. It’s amazing, all this time that he has known him and never really gotten to know him. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly. 

“They’ll have a good harvest this year. Their strawberries will be particularly delicious,” Donghyuck says with finality. Mark smiles at the confidence in his voice. Just as Mark is sure of the death-- that has been here, that will come-- Donghyuck is sure of the new lives, even those of fruits and plants, that will grow here. 

Donghyuck looks away and Mark can breathe a little easier. He follows Donghyuck’s line of sight-- the top of the mountain has clouded over. The other gods know they’re running late, and they don’t like it. Taeyong doesn’t like tardiness, and Mark is terrified of Doyoung, who always keeps a keen eye on Donghyuck.

“Let’s get going,” Mark says and leads Donghyuck back up the mountain, letting him trail off only minimal amounts on the way. They eventually make it to the looming arena at the top. Upon walking in, the angry chatter in the room dies down. Mark realizes with a nervous flutter that they’re the last ones to arrive. He’s never the last one to arrive at anything. He can’t bring himself to regret it though. He sends a final glance at Donghyuck, whose expression he can no longer decipher, and then they separate ways to their respective thrones. 

The thrones are aligned in a U-shape, facing the entrance. Mark’s seat is near the center, directly next to Taeyong, while Donghyuck takes a seat to the side, next to a glowering Doyoung. His throne is all black, with equally dark vines that wrap themselves around Mark, slither down his arms and make their way into this hair. He lets them greet him without panic, lets the eyes of the other gods that look at him wearily rest upon his body. There are few friendly faces in the room. 

Jihyo, goddess of the hearth is one of the few that offer him a smile. She’s always been his favorite. Mark smiles back at her. Jeno, too, looks at him with kind and curious eyes. He’s sure Jeno will question him later about his entrance with Donghyuck. Mark and Donghyuck are not known to spend time together. Taeyong is too busy with the usual introductions to be friendly. Mark has never much minded the weight of eyes, if he’s honest. He lets the weight fall off him like water. 

The meeting commences and everyone has their typical complaints. They all want more power in their domains. They argue about who is the most important god. Mark never has much to say. What he does is important, and he doesn’t need the others to validate that. He knows he looks over the underworld with competence. Every soul makes their way from one life to the other. And anyway, the times he has spoken up he has usually been met with an unproductive fear, so he handles any issues on his own, sometimes with the help of Renjun. 

Taeyong is too soft to silence the complaints, and lets the words hit him one by one. He is a good leader, but a leader is only ever as good as his people. And the gods have never been known to be good. 

This time, Mark gives up completely on following the conversation. His eyes stray to Donghyuck, sitting comfortably on his throne with a crown of flowers. He suits it-- he looks good throned and crowned. Donghyck meets his eyes and makes a silly face. Mark laughs a little, and tries to cover it with a cough. Jeno is going to make fun of him for this, which in turn means Jaemin probably will too. The rest of the meeting is spent like that. Mark’s eyes stray to Donghyuck like a moth to a flame, and Donghyuck turns out to be delightfully entertaining, usually miming and teasing whoever is currently talking. The other gods surely notice, and Mark sees Jihyo bite back a smile while Jeno erupts into a fit of giggles. 

“Let’s stay on topic, please,” Taeyong says, but behind the chastise Mark sees a glimmer of amusement. 

The meeting is long, but it does eventually finish. Mark rises from his chair and skirts towards Jihyo to say hello. By the time he is finished talking to her, both Donghyuck and Jeno are out of sight, and along with them the smell of springtime and the sea. He refuses to let himself feel disappointed and begins the trek back to his domain-- his kingdom, his home. _This isn’t for me anyway_ , he chastises himself, as he says goodbye to the sunlight and greenery. The underground that he built himself is where he belongs. 

***

It’s months later, after he has kept himself busy going up and down his river of souls, greeting them and providing a comforting presence as they head to their rebirth, and he is still stuck on a specific word. Much of the interaction with Donghyuck remains pressed against the back of his eyelids, a stone’s throw away in the map of thoughts, once he allows himself to drift from his responsibilities that is. 

But the word he can’t get out of his mind. Strawberries. He’s never had one. He knows they are small, red, probably sweet. They are something he is only distantly aware of-- they exist parallel to his world. The barren ground and gray sky of his world don’t know the color red. He allows himself to imagine Donghyuck down here, taking a stroll down the river. It’s an image that simply doesn’t make sense. He shoots it down quickly; everyone knows the god of springtime belongs in the sunshine. Why hold onto unreasonable fantasies?

Still. His curiosity has been piqued. Strawberries. He would like to try one. The very ones Donghyuck had proclaimed would be delicious. Goal in mind, he intends to make it reality. So he gets ready for his day, and when Chenle-- his skeletal assistant-- tells him the things he must attend to, he waves them off. 

“Don’t worry about that right now. Tell me, are strawberries in season?” Mark says, twirling around in the chair of his desk. Chenle moves his head to the side. If he had eyebrows, they would be furrowed. Chenle’s eyes are hollow and dark, but they are warm and familiar to Mark.

“Strawberries, the fruit?” 

“Yes, strawberries. Are they in season up there?” Mark says, gesturing at the sky.

“It is June, which means yes, I suppose they are.”

“I’d like to go try one.”

“You’d like to go try a strawberry?” Chenle parrots.

“Yes, Chenle,” Mark says patiently. 

Chenle waits for a moment. Perhaps, Mark realizes, he thinks this is a joke. Mark has never been particularly interested in the upperworld. He has enough to do down here. He takes his responsibilities seriously. He is, however, also serious about trying a strawberry.

“Can you let Renjun know I’d like to go to the upperworld today?” 

“Okaaay,” Chenle says, judgement clear in his tone. Chenle walks away from Mark’s desk as Mark sighs, already imagining the fruit. How sweet would it be? Would it be bitter? What do human’s do with strawberries-- make juices? Jams? 

He traces the familiar path down the river, eyes peeled on the horizon, waiting for the grim reaper to appear. The souls bubble at his feet. He is happy to see them all flowing in the right direction. But he frowns as a single bundle of light slows in its course, then begins to struggle against the tide. 

“Hey, go with the others,” Mark says, leaning down. On his knees, he stretches his hand out. The little soul continues to push against the water, against the other souls. It doesn’t want to leave; it resists death. Mark makes a soft shushing noise. 

“It’s okay. Just follow the others, you’ll get there,” Mark whispers. The soul stops struggling, hesitating. 

“There you go,” Mark says, encouraging. The soul slowly inches forward. The light around it pulses and the soul continues its journey. Mark gets up with a grunt. This has been happening more and more often. It’s worrying. When souls see another soul swimming against the tide they get nervous, agitated, or worse-- try to join in. He doesn’t want them to get confused and lose their sense of direction. He’ll have to look over the numbers with Chenle later.

Eventually Renjun does show up, and the grin on his face has Mark preparing himself for a trip full of nothing but teasing. Renjun does not disappoint. The first thing he says when Mark steps on the boat is, “Chenle seems to think you might be sick.”

“Gods don’t get sick.”

“Sure they do,” Renjun says back, “the only ones who believe you are invincible are yourselves.”

“Look, I just have a curiosity to satisfy. Don’t worry about me,” Mark says.

“You are the weirdest god I know.”

“I’m the only god you know,” Mark shoots back. 

“Untrue. That little sunshine twerp won’t leave me alone.”

Sunshine twerp? “Are you talking about Donghyuck?”

Renjun snaps his fingers. “That’s his name. Yes, he won’t stop bothering me. Says he wants to come to the underworld.”

“ _What_.” Mark blinks at Renjun stupidly, who just laughs in his face. 

“He’s quite persistent. And fearless. I really don’t like him,” Renjun pouts. It makes sense. Renjun thrives off the knowledge that everyone is a little afraid of him. Mark wonders what on earth Donghyuck would want to see the underworld for. It isn’t built for visitors. It has one function, and one function only. 

The comment stays on Mark’s mind for the rest of the trip, despite Renjun’s continued teasing about getting an interior designer to brighten up the place. Like the time before, they enter the cave and Renjun leaves him to step into the sunlight.

It’s hot. The sun is blaring this time. Mark tries to ignore the heat as he retraces his steps to find the cottage with the lovely garden. The scenery is beautiful, of course, the trees are still green and tall, the bees buzz around happily. But he has to admit it felt different with Donghyuck by his side. Everything was just-- brighter. More colorful. It had a pulsing energy to it, the same energy that Donghyuck gives off. 

The cottage is the same as it was. He can see through the windows that the couple are inside, having lunch. He gives them a wide berth, afraid they’ll become sensitive to his presence without Donghyuck to balance him out. He goes to the back, in search for strawberries.

There. They’re small, a brilliant red. He excitedly reaches out and pulls one off its leaf. A bite, then he’s humming in satisfaction at the delicious sweetness. 

“I told you they’d be good,” a voice says behind him.

Mark jumps, dropping his half-eaten strawberry in surprise. He twirls around and there is Donghyuck, laughing loudly with a hand on his stomach. 

“Your face!” Donghyuck cackles.

He immediately touches his face to make sure nothing is wrong with it, until he realizes Donghyuck is just talking about his surprised expression. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” 

“I have my sources,” Donghyuck says cryptically, “have another strawberry.”

Donghyuck passes him another and Mark takes it eagerly, this time eating the whole thing in one bite in case Donghyuck thinks to surprise him some other way. Donghyuck continually passes Mark the fruit. Mark munches happily and listens to Donghyuck explain ideal conditions for growing strawberries, the nutritional benefits, and what other animals particularly enjoy them. 

“That’s so cool,” Mark says, tracing the little seeds on the strawberries skin. He flushes a little as Donghyuck eyes him with curiosity.

“You’re more excitable than I thought you would be. Not everyone wants to hear someone rant about fruit for so long,” Donghyuck says. 

Excitable. No one has called him that before. He grins-- he could be excitable. That’s a nice word. 

“This is also my first time having a strawberry.”

“I’m sorry, your _first_ time?” Donghyuck says in a judgemental voice. 

“I don’t really come up here often. And it’s not like I have to eat to survive,” Mark shifts his weight from one foot to the other under Donghyuck’s gaze. 

“Food isn’t just about sustenance. It can be about pleasure too. How often do you come up here?”

“Uh, about once a year I guess,” Mark answers.

“Are you serious? Just for the annual meetings?”

“I’m pretty busy in the underworld! And anyway, this world isn’t really meant for me,” Mark rushes to defend himself.

“I call bullshit. You can taste,” he holds up the strawberry, “and feel,” he runs his fingers down Mark’s arm, “and see,” the strawberry turns a bright orange for a moment, then goes back to red, “as much as anyone else. Of course this world is meant for you.” 

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Mark admits.

“Look, life is about pleasure. It’s about taking baths in hot springs, laughing with friends, sticky hands from eating fruit in the sun, sand in your hair from playing at the beach. We live forever-- may as well actually live a little.”

He never really thought about life, Mark realizes. He’s thought about death, about rebirth, about the journey in between. But not about life, and even less about his life. He’s sure that if he had ever sat down to think about it, he wouldn’t come to such a hedonistic conclusion. Donghyuck seems to think he’s got the secrets of life figured out, and they lay beneath the skin of this strawberry. Maybe he’s right.

“You are clearly more hopeless than I thought,” Donghyuck says, straightening up his back with self-importance, “I have no choice but to become your life coach. We’ve already started with strawberries. Next lesson, watermelon. You’ll enjoy it.”

***

Mark steps off the boat and onto the ground of the underworld. His cheeks hurt a bit from the amount of smiling and laughing Donghyuck had put him through. He feels full and sleepy, dreaming of a lazy nap. The sky reflects his mood-- the painful-looking nighttime purple has turned into a soft lilac. 

He starts the trek to his small home, but stops suddenly and tilts his head to the side. The souls are moving around more than usual. They buzz and crash against each other, telling him something is wrong. Then he sees it-- a stream that has broken away from the river, turning and heading in the opposite direction of the river’s flow.

“Where are you going?” he cries, following the souls that have broken away from the main river. They’re clearly trying to head back where they came, to undo death. 

“You’ll get lost! You won’t be able to go back,” Mark says, begging them to stop. They don’t listen, swarming and streaming as fast as possible away from him. He stops where the stream reconnects to the river, and the wayward souls trickle back in with the main group. He watches their confusion, their frustration. He feels it right in his chest, and the lilac sky darkens until the only light comes from the souls themselves, the bright scar of a river that cuts through the ground. Rain falls from the sky, hitting the river’s surface, hitting the barren ground, dripping down Mark’s cheeks. 

Mark stays by the intersection between the stream and the river for hours, trying to talk to the bright lights that bob along underwater. He tries to ease their pain, explain to them what is happening. Slowly, the rain stops falling. Slowly, the souls that come from the stream show signs of simple curiosity, not desperation. The river’s current is peaceful again. 

A skeletal hand touches his shoulder. It’s Chenle. “It’s okay, they’re okay now.”

“We’ll have to keep an eye on this,” Mark says, trying to come up with a plan. An emergency system must be set in place in case this happens again. He needs to come up with more preventative measures, keep the souls calm. 

It’s so hard, he thinks hopelessly to himself. Millions of souls pass under his care a day, and losing even one is unacceptable. But he has to keep this river flowing. He has to.

***

The stream doesn’t go away. In fact, another one like it appears further along the river and Mark is kept busy keeping up with them. He feels as lost as the souls that break away from their peers. Everything about this world was built by him; he’s not used to it misbehaving in this way. But it has clearly aged into a rebellious adolescence and Mark can do nothing but clean up the messes left behind. Donghyuck is merciful during their “life lessons” when Mark must suddenly head back home to take care of an issue in the river. He just nods and says they’ll continue another day. 

Hopefully today, though, Mark will be able to focus on the lesson at hand. 

“Today we are learning about one of the finer things in life,” Donghyuck announces to a serious and focused Mark, and bemused-looking Jeno and Jaemin. He waves a glass of plum-colored wine.

“Alcohol, when consumed properly, can lead to what I certainly consider a good time,” Donghyuck says as three more cups appear.

Mark raises his hand. “I thought alcohol doesn’t affect the gods?”

“You are right, my dear pupil,” Donghyuck says. Mark ignores Jeno and Jaemin giggling by his side. “That is why we must add a secret ingredient-- the elixir of the gods.”

He opens a silver flask and out pours a shimmering gold liquid. It gives each glass an odd glittering quality. He passes out the glasses of wine. Mark takes his cup carefully, sniffing it a little.

“You’ve really never had wine before?” Jeno says, twirling the glass in his hand while Jaemin tries to steal it from him. 

“Never,” Mark says, looking at his feet.

“That’s no problem at all,” Donghyuck decrees, “there’s a first time for everything!”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Jeno says, clearly feeling guilty for how accusatory his question had sounded. Mark just smiles, knowing Jeno had meant no harm.

“Cheers!” Jaemin says, and they all take a sip of their cups. The wine is an odd mix of bitter and sweet. Mark keeps it on his tongue for a moment, giving himself time to consider the taste before swallowing. The conversation flows easily from there. The four are lounging on rocks out on the beach. Jeno is comfortable in his territory, and the waves are calm and happy to have him near. Jaemin keeps a foot dangling in the water and a hand around Jeno’s waist as he steadily makes his way through three glasses of wine. 

Donghyuck has made himself at home leaning against Mark’s chest, lazily lifting his glass of wine to his lips every so often. Mark steels himself for the impending raised eyebrows from his friends. They come, of course, but some time spent experiencing Donghyuck’s affectionate nature has helped him build up a tolerance. He is even able to drag a few fingers through Donghyuck’s hair, curious as to how soft it would be. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that this is where he belongs-- under the sun and next to the sea. No misbehaving rivers to worry about. 

“I can’t believe Donghyuck’s stupid plan worked,” Jaemin murmurs, breaking a moment of tipsy silence.

Jaemin gets a soft kick in the shin for the comment while Mark peers at Donghyuck curiously.

“What plan?” he asks.

To his horror, it looks like Donghyuck is flustered. Is he _blushing_?

“Shut up, Jaemin,” Donghyuck says.

But Jaemin has a wide grin and a scary look in his eyes. Jeno at his side tries to hide his own glimmer of amusement. “Don’t you remember, Mark? At the gathering of the gods? I was waiting at the river for you. And then Donghyuck showed up.”

“Did you know I would be there?” Mark asks curiously. Not many people are aware of his chosen exit and entrance to the underworld. Only Renjun really knows the secret. Jaemin had only stumbled on it by accident.

“I asked Jaemin about it,” Donghyuck admits. “Look, I just wanted to run in to you before the meeting! We had never really talked.”

A warmth that has nothing to do with the buzz of wine overlaps him. Donghyuck had noticed him? Had wanted to befriend him? It’s amazing that Donghyuck’s world of beauty and power made space for someone like Mark.

“Why?”

“Well, actually, I kind of hated you for a while. You were always so bored during our gatherings, I figured you thought yourself above us.”

“You hated me?” Mark struggles to believe that he was able to catch enough of Donghyuck’s eye to muster an emotion as strong as hate.

“Yeah. I mistook your silence as self-importance and your power as arrogance,” his eyes soften for a moment and his smile falls away, “then I made a human friend. You remember the girl I told you about, the one who wanted to fly?”

Mark nods and immediately understands the sorrow in Donghyuck’s eyes. 

“The reason the gods are so arrogant is that they never have to encounter death. Except for you,” Donghyuck continues. Then his grin is back up and it lightens the atmosphere once again.

“I had to swallow my own pride when I realized how clueless and adorable you are,” Donghyuck says. 

Mark pulls a little at Donghyuck’s hair. “Hey, I’m not clueless. I am the all-powerful god of death-- show me some respect.” 

“Oh, please,” Donghyuck says, delighted, “don’t make me laugh.”

“I’ll prove it to you,” Mark says, challenging. 

“Do it, then. Show me the underworld,” Donghyuck says with a victorious smile. Mark freezes when he realizes he has walked right into Donghyuck’s trap, as he had been pushing for a while now to visit the underworld. Mark narrows his eyes at Donghyuck. The only other god who has visited the underworld is Taeyong, and that was a long time ago, when his river was just a teardrop of water and souls. 

It’s only in the middle of their stare-off does he realize Jaemin and Jeno are laughing at them. “This is not going to end well,” Jeno says.

“I’ll think about it,” Mark tells Donghyuck. The truth is he knows the souls would adore Donghyuck. But they have been so unpredictable lately. And still, when he tries to imagine Donghyuck in his own monochrome silver and purple world, his imagination fails him. 

***

Doyoung gives him a narrow-eyed, considering look. Mark does his best to look harmless. Doyoung clearly sees through him, but let’s Mark pass the two trees that stand guard before him regardless. The trees are laughing at them both, but Doyoung ignores their jokes so Mark does as well. 

This forest is unlike anything Mark has ever seen before. The giant trees laugh and sway in the wind, their branches stretching out to tickle Mark. Flowers burst forward by his toes with every step he takes, teasing him and almost making him trip over his own feet. Deer hide by the trees while rabbits race each other on the grass. Birds fly by to greet them, nipping at his ear and messing up his hair. A panther eyes him carefully from a tree-branch. 

Everything is alive here. Wilderness that lives up to its name-- wild before anything else. 

Then he sees Donghyuck, and everything else pales in comparison. Sunlight streams through the sky of trees, and Donghyuck shimmers under its warmth. He wears a crown of flowers and a white tunic that leaves a shoulder bare. His eyes shine molten-gold, as painful to look at as two suns. He walks barefoot on the grass towards them, everything he passes caressing him lovingly. 

“Follow me,” he says. Mark trails after him, Doyoung a step behind. Donghyuck leads them to a clearing, in the middle of which stands a weeping willow. It droops under its own weight, branches lonely and leafless. Jeno and Jaemin stand by it, and greet them quietly when they arrive. Jaemin is holding onto Jeno’s trident-- it’s a rare sight to see Jeno’s trident in anyone’s hands but his. Yet Jeno seems comfortable with his most powerful possession in Jaemin’s hold. Without a source of water nearby, it’s likely the reason Jaemin can stand to be here at all. 

Donghyuck stops with his hand on the willow’s trunk, facing them. He lifts his eyes and Mark follows his gaze, surprised to find another boy sitting on a branch, pale green eyes and hair the color of bark. A dryad.

“Come down here, Jisung,” Donghyuck says softly. The boy scampers down the tree and joins them. Donghyuck takes a deep breath and smiles at them, and Mark forces himself not to look away from his bright eyes. 

“The spring equinox. I’m sure you all feel it,” Donghyuck begins. “Spring is about rebirth, the light after a long hard winter. The empty trees whose fallen leaves rejoin them,” his eyes fall on Jisung, “the coming together of sun and water to grow,” he smiles at Jeno and Jaemin, “the generosity of the harvest,” now Doyoung, “and life after death.” His eyes land on Mark. His gaze burns. 

“To spring,” Doyoung murmurs. 

“To spring,” the wind, the trees, the flowers echo. 

Donghyuck closes his eyes and the powerful light of his gaze extends outwards. It hits Mark like a wave-- pure, raw energy. He staggers back a bit, overwhelmed. When Donghyuck opens his eyes again, they are their usual brown color. The willow beside him has bloomed, it’s branches donned with long, flowing leaves, a brilliant bright green. Jisung lets out a cheer, then Jaemin and Jeno join in, and then the world erupts in celebration to welcome springtime. 

Dryads leave their laughing trees and join in, dancing and singing. Donghyuck giggles and spins as Jisung leads the dryads in a circle, feet kicking into the air. Mark speaks casually to a few giggling dryads, inquiring about their trees and flowers, enamoured by their odd eyes and flowered hair. He squabbles with Jaemin and Jeno when they try to get him to dance, then eventually gives in and makes a fool of himself until he can no longer dance because he is laughing too hard. 

Eventually Donghyuck comes up to him, grabbing his hand and leading him to the trunk of the willow tree. They watch the party in silence for a moment as the willow’s branches tickle their cheeks and circle their shoulder. Donghyuck shifts closer. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

“Of course,” Mark says with a smile.

“Good. The one rule of my party is to have fun,” Donghyuck says.

“I always did tend to abide by the rules,” Mark says, stepping closer as the willow branches press against his back.

“Actually, my other rule is that my guests bring me gifts,” Donghyuck says. Mark doesn’t mention the fact that no one seems to have given Donghyuck anything. He does in fact have a gift prepared.

“I know what you want. And tomorrow, I’ve arranged for Renjun to take you to the underworld,” Mark says. He has come to realize that his fear regarding Donghyuck’s visit is trumped by his need to give Donghyuck whatever he wants.

“I can’t wait,” Donghyuck murmurs, and puts his arms around Mark’s neck, “but there’s another gift I want. Something you can give me right now.” 

The willow branches circle them both, pushing them close together. Mark takes a deep breath, then wraps Donghyuck up in his arms, tilts his head to the side, and presses a kiss to Donghyuck’s mouth. His lips feel as soft as they look, his skin hot to the touch. He feels himself melt against it as Donghyuck opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. Mark follows along, hand tightening against the silken fabric of Donghyuck’s tunic. 

Maybe this is another one of Donghyuck’s lessons, he thinks distantly to himself. Because this has to be what it means to be alive. Not just pleasure, but also warmth and tenderness.

They break apart slowly, and Donghyuck moves his arms to cup Mark’s cheeks. “Tomorrow, I want to see your home. Today, you get to see mine.” 

***

He didn’t expect the silence. Donghyuck is so rarely this quiet. Mark looks at him in worry. The light of souls moving through water cast moving shadows on his face. He’s on his knees, leaning over the water and staring, motionless. 

The souls are quiet today too. They must be curious about this visitor that so obviously does not belong. They glide peacefully through the water, shimmering bundles of light. The river has been rebellious as of late-- breaking apart and moulding itself back together. It’s no longer a straight line from one side of the horizon to the other, but a twisting, curving thing that comes alive and grows every day. 

Mark watches Donghyuck’s unidentifiable expression mask over his face. A single tear makes its way down his cheek, and falls into the flowing river. Donghyuck’s hand moves to mirror the fall, but Mark stops it before Donghyuck can touch the water.

“You can’t touch the water. If you do, you’ll be trapped here forever,” Mark says. The sky is clouded over and as close to inky-black as it can get. The moving clouds make it look like the sky itself writhes above them. 

Donghyuck’s hand slowly moves away from the water. The sky only stills once Donghyuck’s hands are safely placed on the ground. 

“Let’s walk,” Mark says, pulling Donghyuck up. They trace the river’s path, skipping over a thin stream that extends out of the main body. 

“Where are they going?” Donghyuck asks, watching the souls that choose to break apart from the others. 

“The stream circles back around a ways out. I keep an eye on all of them-- I don’t want any of the souls to get lost.”

They walk quietly for a bit more. Donghyuck takes Mark’s hands in his own. He can’t tell whose fingers are the ones that tremble. Eventually Mark’s house comes to view. The small house puts Donghyuck in a talkative mood. He explores Mark’s desk where he gets some of his work done, asking questions about what he has to do everyday, what he has to report to Taeyong. He runs his hands along a dark wooden table, picks up a bottle of wine he had gifted Mark. He meanders into the bedroom, lays down on the bed.

“You sleep?” Donghyuck asks as Mark sits down on the bed next to him, placing a hand on Donghyuck’s knee. 

“Sometimes. I enjoy a nap every once in a while,” Mark murmurs, carefully trailing his hand up Donghyuck’s leg and watching his expression. 

Wistful. Donghyuck looks wistful. It’s not what Mark expects.

“I’ve never been able to sleep,” Donghyuck says. Mark hums and tries to hide his surprise. It doesn’t seem to work. No god needs sleep, but Mark is pretty sure most gods partake in the luxury. 

“It’s so loud, up there.”

“It’s very quiet here,” Mark says. They are silent for a moment. The only sound is the distant tumbling of water.

“It’s lonely,” Donghyuck says, lifting himself into a sitting position. He shifts and hooks one leg over Mark’s own legs, the other one he draws up to his chest. “Are you lonely, Mark?”

“I have the souls. I see Renjun. Chenle, my skeletal assistant, pops in the help me out with work. To deliver messages to Taeyong, sometimes.” 

“The souls come here to leave. Renjun and Chenle don’t actually live in this world. Aren’t you the only one who calls this a home?”

“Loneliness is not something gods are supposed to feel,” Mark retorts. He never considered himself lonely. He considers himself busy-- holding together an entire world that holds so many shifting souls takes a lot of work, a lot of power. 

“Have I taught you nothing?” Donghyuck says, sliding into Mark’s lap, “gods feel so many things. Lust. Love. Loneliness.” 

Mark looks at him in surprise, holding onto his waist. “You feel lonely?”

Donghyuck leans forward, presses a kiss to Mark’s lips, moves to trace his lips across Mark’s jaw. “It’s a secret,” Donghyuck whispers into his ear, “but sometimes I worry that the world will have no more use for spring. That I will be consumed by barren winters and scorching summers. That’s when I feel lonely.”

“The world would never turn against itself like that,” Mark says, pressing Donghyuck closer, hands on his lower back. 

“When it happens, maybe I’ll finally fall asleep. Spend the rest of eternity in slumber.”

“Don’t say that. One day, you’ll be able to sleep. I’ll show you how. And you’ll wake up again,” Mark says as he moves to lay down. Donghyuck looks down at him, still shining, even in the dim lighting of his room, even with the dark sky outside. His hair, usually a pretty brown that goes gold in the sun, has turned silver. The same silver of the water in Mark’s river. He’s here, Mark realizes, he’s really here, in the underworld. And it suits him. 

Mark pulls Donghyuck down, and Donghyuck goes willingly. 

***

Before Donghyuck leaves, he leans down and places both hands on the ground. From between his hands bursts forth a small tree. 

“If you shower it with love and attention, it’ll grow into a weeping willow,” he tells Mark.

Then he leaves, because he must. Mark wishes he could stay. Stay until his hair only knows the color silver, until the souls greet him without curiosity but with familiarity, until he is able to close his eyes and fall asleep in only a moment. He plays with the willow’s leaves to feel better. It already looks taller. The souls that pass by it chatter excitedly amongst each other, and their positive energy spreads. Mark smiles at the river. Today it wants to behave. 

***

“Mark, I’m sorry, but gods are not meant to get involved in each other’s domains,” Taeyong says, again. 

Mark sighs in defeat. Unforgiving eyes bore into him. He should have known Taeyong would be of no help. He had finally brought up the issue of the restless souls, the ones that cause the river’s erratic behavior, hoping someone could help. But, as Taeyong says, the gods tend to stick to themselves.

“That’s bullshit,” Donghyuck breaks in angrily. Mark puts his face in his hands. 

“Hyuck, it’s fine,” he says. 

“No it’s not! If Mark is asking for help, we should help him. Gods don’t exist in a vacuum-- we _coexist_ ,” Donghyuck fights back. 

“This isn’t a problem anyone can help with. Mark needs to figure it out on his own,” Taeyong says tightly. 

“Then help him figure it out! What’s the point of being our leader if you’re so useless?” Donghyuck says. The room erupts into angry whispers. The other gods send Donghyuck disapproving glares. Jeno eyes them both worriedly, making calming motions with his hands.

“Donghyuck, enough,” Doyoung snaps from Donghyuck’s side, “Taeyong has done a lot for all of us. He knows when it’s time to get involved.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t retort, but offers them all dark glares. Mark looks at Taeyong-- who _has_ done a lot for him. In the earliest of days, it was Taeyong who gifted him with a grim reaper. It was Taeyong that had breathed life into Chenle’s skeletal body. For that, and more, Mark will always be grateful.

“I can figure it out,” Mark promises, less so because he believes the words and more because he needs to diffuse the situation. Donghyuck shifts his scathing eyes to Mark, who is unperturbed by their intensity. He just narrows his eyes back, tilting his head to the side. Donghyuck is too smart to make a fool of himself and cause a disturbance at the gathering of the gods. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, but backs down nonetheless. 

“I’ll get the situation under control,” Mark says.

***

It starts when they’re underwater. Jeno takes them all swimming, and they spend an afternoon chatting with dolphins and watching fish explore coral reefs. Jeno and Jaemin are farther ahead, and Mark is waving at a turtle, when he feels his stomach drop, as if he had just been thrown off a cliff. 

Immediately he turns to look for Donghyuck. Only a moment ago Donghyuck had been swimming about, hair floating around his face and teasing the dolphins. Mark looks up and finds Donghyuck swimming frantically to the surface, gripping at his throat. Yelling for Jeno and Jaemin to come help, he takes off as Donghyuck’s flailing limbs slow, as he seems to go confused, forgetting which way the surface lies. 

Jeno shoots by him, the fastest swimmer of them all, and grips onto Donghyuk to pull him up. Mark and Jaemin chase after them. Mark’s head breaks over the water’s surface, and he finds Donghyuck gripping onto Jeno, coughing and spluttering. He feels the current change direction and then they're being pushed to shore. He tries not to fight it, but feels disoriented as he struggles to stay afloat and keep his eyes on Donghyuck’s shuddering form.

They make it to the beach. Donghyuck crawls past the crashing waves, taking huge gulps of air. Mark rushes to catch up, and ends up with a cold, wet armful of Donghyuck, who presses his face into Mark’s neck. 

“You’re okay,” Mark murmurs, rubbing his back, and shooting an alarmed look at Jeno. His usually serene face is troubled. Jaemin holds onto Donghyuck’s other side, close to tears. When Donghyuck calms down enough, he can’t meet anyone’s eyes, staring at the ground as they wait for someone to ask the obvious.

“Hyuck, what happened?” Mark asks softly. Donghyuck turns to him with an impressive glare.

“Well, obviously, Jeno’s magic stopped working,” Donghyuck says. 

Jeno shakes his head. He had given them all magic to keep their forms from being affected by their underwater excursion-- the lack of oxygen, the water pressure as they went deeper. It hadn’t stopped working on any of the others. And anyway, after Jeno had released his magic, it was up to each individual to keep it up. He knows Donghyuck knows this. They wait as Donghyuck’s glare fades, replaced with frustration.

“I don’t know what happened,” Donghyuck snaps, “one seconds I was fine, the next second it was like I felt my power drain away for a moment.”

“Drain away? Is that even possible?” Jaemin asks. Donghyuck shrugs, still not meeting their eyes. 

“Has this happened before?” Mark asks sharply, a hand on Donghyuck’s chin to get a good look at his face. 

“It’s been happening recently. When I walk, the flowers around me die,” Donghyuck admits. Mark feels something terrified and angry rear up in his chest. _How could you keep this to yourself?_ it wants to yell. But he waits until the thing curls up on itself, and anger bleeds out into concern.

“Does Doyoung know about this?” Jeno asks. 

“Of course not. He would never let me out of his sight if he did.”

“You should tell him,” Mark pushes. 

“I guess,” Donghyuck says, in a tone Mark knows all too well. He resolves not to let this issue go. If Donghyuck won’t take care of himself, Mark will do it for him.

When he gets back to the underworld, alone and worried, the labyrinth of the river that has spiralled out of control waits for him. It’s raining, as it has been for the last week, and the rain water is so cold it burns when it hits him. When he gets to his small home, that he has slowly been filling with personal artifacts and gifts, the weeping willow that had been growing so beautifully is dead. Mark runs to it, collapses on his knees in front of the bone-white bark. The souls around him cry in an echo of his own anguish. 

He traces his hand gently against the rough bark. “Please don’t go,” he whispers as warm tears mix with the ice-cold rain on his face. He presses his cheek against the dying tree. “Please don’t leave me.”

***

“He doesn’t want to see you,” Doyoung says coldly. 

“Tell him to get over his pride and let me through,” Mark demands. 

“You’re usually such a polite boy. Don’t let your concern overwhelm you like this,” Doyoung says, an immobile statue.

“I am not a boy, I am a god,” Mark glowers, and lets death into the air. It’s his aura, his power, which he usually keeps carefully locked up inside, finally allowed to come out and play. The air goes cold, the sky dark. The animals that circle nervously turn into skeletal reflections of themselves, their skulls distorted in a snarl directed at Doyoung. The trees turn white and the grass withers away and Mark lets a sliver of the underworld rise and take over this world. 

Doyoung has gone pale, eyes widened and jaw clenched, but he does not move. 

“He can come in if he stops being a baby,” a tired voice says from behind Doyoung’s shoulders. Immediately, the world falls back into the right place. Doyoung lets Mark through, though not without sending him a stiff glare. 

“Doyoung doesn’t like me very much,” Mark says as he makes his way over to Donghyuck, who is laying on yellowing grass and crunchy brown leaves.

“He’s just protective-- thinks I like you too much.”

Mark hums in response, kneeling down and running a hand through Donghyuck’s hair. He doesn’t ask if he’s all right-- it’s clear that he’s not. He has dark circles under his eyes, chapped lips. His hand trembles from exertion just from lifting it up to meet Mark’s own. He tries to sit up, but Mark stops him and lays him back down.

“You need to rest,” Mark reminds him gently.

“All I’ve been doing is resting. I’m so tired,” Donghyuck’s voice breaks a little, and with it Mark’s heart, “I wish I could sleep.”

Mark lays down next to Donghyuck, who places his head on Mark’s chest.

“Does no one know how to,” _fix you,_ he almost says, then stops himself. Donghyuck is not broken.

“How to help you?” he finishes. 

“It seems my worries were true. The world is turning in on itself-- summers are hotter, winters are colder, the storms come more often and when they do they come stronger. No one wants spring anymore.”

“We have to stop it, then. We can’t let this happen,” Mark insists. He circles Donghyuck’s thin wrist and presses a kiss against the pulse point. Donghyuck closes his eyes and breathes out slowly. Mark watches in terror as a tear makes its way between his closed eyelids.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Donghyuck whispers. 

“I never loved you for your power,” Mark says, pressing kisses against both eyes, “I love you for you.”

“But who is the god of springtime without spring?” Donghyuck says, voice filled with scorn. Mark just holds Donghyuck tighter, hoping he can ease him not with words that fail him, but with a body that will always find its way next to him.

*** 

Taeyong, for all his sweetness, is a cold god. The sky must be-- it keeps the universe out, holds the earth in. There is no room for error. His statue-esque face is manifested from the perfection underneath. But perfection has no warmth to it.

“What do you mean we can’t interfere?” Mark asks.

“It’s the actions of humans that are making him so sick. We cannot interfere with human lives or behaviors,” Taeyong repeats. The room is tense, the sky above rumbles. Jihyo’s lips are pursed in worry, Jeno has his face in his hands. The black vines on Mark’s throne tremble in anger. They snake around Mark’s arms, along his neck, across his chest. He pays them no mind. 

“They’re going to kill him!” Mark yells. Thunder fills the room, and leaves behind only Taeyong’s silence. 

“How far will your non-interference go? Do you know how many of us will suffer if this continues? Have you no empathy?” Doyoung’s voice snaps like a whip. Taeyong finally crumbles. His eyes shine with unshed tears as he presses his hands together.

“I can’t do anything,” he whispers, “you have to believe me. I can’t.”

Taeyong is the perfect god. The perfect leader. The gods cannot interfere with humans, and Taeyong has to follow that rule. 

Mark has decided he couldn’t care less about being the perfect god. He rises out of his throne. “If you don’t--”

The door bursts open, and in comes Donghyuck. The room erupts in frightened whispers at Donghyuck’s sickly appearance, but Mark notices his eyes first. They are full of wrath. 

“You are all useless,” Donghyuck begins, “and I have no interest in a world that doesn’t want me. If the humans turn their back on me, and you allow them to, then I have no interest in you either.” 

“ _Hyuck_ ,” Taeyong gasps, hand covering his mouth and eyes wide as he takes in his dying form. 

“You don’t get to call me that,” Donghyuck snarls. He walks past Doyoung, ignoring his worried chastisement, offering only a nod to a shaky Jeno, and stops before Mark. He stretches out his hand. Mark takes it silently. He watches Donghyuck’s eyes, studying his expression. Behind the anger lays an untamable hurt. 

“Let’s go,” Donghyuck says, and pulls him away from his throne. 

***

The river is a tumbling mess of anxious souls and a current that has lost its sense of direction. It’s no longer a true river, but criss-crossing streams of water that curve and turn in every direction, as far as the eye can see. The barren land and empty sky envelop them with suffocating expansiveness. Donghyuck only stops walking when they reach Mark’s weeping willow, drooping and pale before Mark’s small house, looking as sad and sick as its creator. Donghyuck runs his hands against the bark, then turns around and walks into Mark’s space.

“Would you give me the world, if I asked it of you?” Donghyuck asks.

“I would,” Mark says immediately. 

“Then give me your world, and I will give you springtime.”

Mark nods, returning Donghyuck’s brilliant smile. Donghyuck extends his arms to his sides, takes in a deep breath, and lets it out slowly.

As the breath leaves his mouth, Mark feels an incredible power release from within. Like a warm breeze, then another, and another. As the wind moves, it leaves behind trees-- not the usual green ones, but gray to match the river’s silver water. Black grass erupts all around, coating the ground and moving with the wind. Flowers-- lilac, pale pink, pastel green-- grow along the river bed. Mark closes his eyes and thinks of the panther he had seen once lazing on a tree, the birds that liked to play with his hair, the rabbits that would run to Donghyuck then run away. When he opens his eyes, he hears birdsong, and a skeletal bird flies to them, circling their heads and twittering, bones fine and delicate. The sounds of life surround them. White bones peek out between the trees. 

Donghyuck looks at him with a fierce grin. The sallow pallor of his skin is gone, replaced by its usual shine. His silver hair falls down his forehead, his dark eyes bright and dancing. He radiates power, crashing in waves, crashing through Mark, crashing far and wide in this new land. Donghyuck places his hand against Mark’s chest, then walks him backwards until his heels hit the riverbed. Right behind him lies silvery water, the glow of singing souls as they travel through this newly filled world. 

His eyes never stray from Donghyuck. He stares, transfixed, as Donghyuck slips the arm of his tunic off his shoulder, then pulls it down and steps out. He keeps still as Donghyuck reaches his hands over to Mark and pulls Mark’s deep black tunic off. Donghyuck runs his hands over his chest, then pulls him in for a kiss, mouth hot and heavy on his own. 

“Trust me,” Donghyuck gasps, and pushes Mark into the water.

Mark loses his sense of direction for a moment, then his head breaks the surface of the water and he has only a moment to catch his breath before he has a wet and insistent Donghyuck in his arms. The souls giggle and give them a wide berth. Mark stares at Donghyuck, watches the moving shadows across his face, the reflection of the glowing water playing across his cheeks. Tiny droplets make their way down Donghyuck’s face, over his chin, below his neck. 

“There’s no going back,” Mark says.

“There’s nothing to go back to,” Donghyuck says. He wraps his arms around Mark’s neck, circles Mark’s waist with his thighs. Mark lifts him up, holding onto him tightly as they kiss, lips tingling and bodies pressed impossibly close. He runs a reverent hand down Donghyuck’s back, over his legs. 

Later, when he is tangled up with Donghyuck, when Donghyuck’s breathy sighs slip out of his mouth, when all he can feel is Donghyuck’s soft skin against his own, he will take a moment to tilt his head back with pleasure and look up into the lavender sky, and a newly born white-hot sun will look back at him.

*** 

He wakes up slowly, eyes blinking at the odd sky. It holds so many colors. The first sunset. Or is it the sunrise? He doesn’t know. The air is filled with new sounds now, but they are muted compared to the sounds of the world above them. He hears the bubbling of the river, the twittering of bony birds and buzzing insects. He knows that the souls are happy. In the early morning light, he realizes that maybe the river hadn’t been misbehaving all this time. Maybe it had just been going through growing pains, and needed to stretch out and take over more of its own space. Maybe Mark had been wrong to think that the path between death and rebirth had to be a single, straight-flowing river. 

His eyes land on a sleeping Donghyuck, splayed out over the bed and breathing evenly. The circles under his eyes have disappeared completely. He sighs and closes his eyes until he feels Donghyuck shift next to him. This time, when he opens his eyes, he is face to face with a quiet, shining god. 

“I slept,” Donghyuck marvels. He lifts his hand up and cups Mark’s cheek, as Mark lifts up his own arm and throws it over Donghyuck’s waist. Donghyuck presses a soft kiss to Mark’s lips. Mark lets his fingers rub circles over Donghyuck’s hip.

“Did you sleep well?” Mark asks.

Donghyuck breaks into a smile. “I did.” 

***

“Please come back,” Doyoung begs. 

“You can’t just stay down here forever,” Taeyong adds on. 

Donghyuck crosses his arms and offers them unimpressed looks. “I can and I will.” 

Mark glances over to the souls, who are a little jittery from the commotion. They don’t like it when Donghyuck is upset. 

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Doyoung says, “what about Jeno? What about Jaemin? The dryads? You would turn your back on them?”

At this Donghyuck falters, uncrossing his arms and looking at his feet.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t have power up there.” 

“Look, I shouldn’t be saying this, but maybe we need a less conventional solution,” Taeyong says. “If you spend half the year here, you can accumulate enough power to last another half the year up there.”

Donghyuck seems to consider the solution. “What about the river? I touched the river of souls, so I can’t go back up.” 

Taeyong sends Mark a wry grin. “I don’t think Mark will mind if we bend the rules a bit.”

“Whatever Donghyuck wants,” Mark answers stiffly. Mark would break all the rules if Donghyuck wanted him to. 

“Ugh! Fine! You win! I’ll go back. But _only_ for half the year. Then you can spend the other half of the year thinking about what a huge mistake you all made turning your backs against me in the first place,” Donghyuck says, and stomps off. 

Doyoung rubs a distraught looking Taeyong’s shoulders. “He can hold a grudge but he’ll get over it. Just give it a few decades.”

Doyoung turns to offer Mark a glare. “You better stay out of trouble. If I hear Donghyuck is unhappy down here, even for a second, I’ll turn you into a grain of rice.”

Mark puts his hands up and smiles. “Message received. Don’t worry, I think Donghyuck has this world wrapped around his finger already.”

“Good,” Doyoung says haughtily. 

“I can hear you!” Donghyuck yells from the distance. “Stop threatening Mark!” 

“Come back here so I can threaten you instead!” Doyoung yells back.

***

Another year, another goodbye, Mark thinks glumly. He is slumped over on Renjun’s boat, having just dropped a cackling Donghyuck off in Jaemin and Jeno’s arms. Now comes the start of six very difficult months. He gets so used to turning over in bed and having Donghyuck right there beside him. 

“You’re so dramatic,” Renjun complains, “you’ll literally probably go up to see him tomorrow. I’ve never seen two people so obsessed with each other, it’s actually disgusting.”

“It’s not the same,” Mark whines. 

“Get over it,” Renjun says bitingly. 

“Only if you get over your little crushes on a certain water nymph and his sea god,” Mark retorts, proud of his comeback. Donghyuck had been the one to relay that piece of information to him. From the looks of it, Jaemin and Jeno are delighted by this particular recent development.

“I will throw you off this boat,” Renjun says. Mark laughs, but doesn’t push, because he’s sure Renjun would actually throw Mark off the boat if pressed.

Mark leaves a bright red Renjun to his boat and enters his home. It’s littered with personal belongings of Donghyuck, little facets of his personality pressed against the walls and wedged between corners, mixing in with Mark’s own things. He passes by a bowl of watermelon and a vase of flowers and collapses onto his bed. 

His arms trace over the side Donghyuck likes to sleep on, and he rolls over to press his face into the pillow. The first night without Donghyuck is usually the hardest-- he doesn’t sleep, and spends the night wondering if Donghyuck is awake too. A sudden rush of emotion squeezes his chest and he closes his eyes, imagining the ghost of Donghyuck’s laugh bouncing around. 

The emotion in his heart is ugly, grief but not quite, sadness but not quite. Loneliness, Mark realizes. Donghyuck had told him once that even gods can feel lonely. He takes a deep breath and welcomes loneliness with open arms, letting it make its way through his system until it chooses to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> i had this idea and couldn't get it out of my head until i finished writing it tbh!!!
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_bluedesert_) or [cc](https://curiouscat.me/_bluedesert_)


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